Six Seconds
by MOREID4EVA
Summary: When a new threat takes an old friend, Reid must push past his feelings to save the ones he loves. But what if the person he truly loves is the person staring him in the face? Eventual Moreid. T for violence.
1. Chapter 1

It was an unusually quiet week in the BAU office; they hadn't been presented with a case for days. Reid was getting worried that something might be wrong with JJ, when he got distracted…

A tall, handsome figure walked into the building and sat at the desk opposite. Morgan was wearing a nice blue shirt, like the sky on a stormy night, and was staring into space. Instantly Reid knew something was on his mind. He knew that face better than his own; he knew the features and how his eyes would crinkle in the corner when he smiled; he knew how his nostrils flared when he was angry.

But his lips were still a mystery. He knew the different shapes they could make but not how they felt, that was something he longed for more than anything.

Morgan's phone rang snapping Reid back to reality.

"Hey Baby Girl." Morgan's mouth instantly began to turn into a smile. Reid registered an emotion inside of him: jealousy. It was absurd of course. Garcia was with Kevin and happily so; even if she did flirt with Morgan whenever the opportunity presented itself. She had news; they were needed back in Los Angeles.

* * *

Lila Archer – a former victim to a stalker situation – had been filed in the "missing person's" section of the LA system, but now it had escalated: a video link had been sent to the police, indicating that Lila had been drugged and lightly beaten by her captor. All throughout the tape, he'd been demanding to see the FBI, the people 'responsible' for something.

Morgan didn't need the drama right now; he was still confused on his feelings over both Garcia and Reid, but now this complicated things. Garcia had a boyfriend, and now one of Reid's past lovers – one of his only lovers – was being held against her own will because of something the team did.

Great!

Hotch, Rossi, JJ and Prentiss flicked through their case files while Reid stood outside the room with Garcia, who was gently stroking his shoulders in comfort. Morgan felt like he should be the one comforting him at the moment.

Reid, however, was even more confused than Morgan. He _knew_ this unsub was after him – he was the one who intervened with Lila's stalker – and he was still confused about how he felt about the man he knew was watching him only 30 feet away.

Everything was confusing. Why couldn't he be as calm as the team was?

* * *

From the captor's laptop, Lila Archer saw the team and her heart skipped a beat. There, in the middle, was Spencer Reid. He looked just as she remembered him, with his long shirt and tall frame, but with longer hair, which was still its original chestnut colour. And there were two new people in the team. Instead of Agents Gideon and Greenway there were different people: an older man, with lightly tanned skin, short, cropped hair and a goatee; the other was a young woman, relatively attractive, and talking with Reid! And they were laughing! Did he not care?

But then she saw his face fall after their chuckles had ceased, and she knew he cared. If it weren't for the gag in her mouth, she would have smiled slightly, despite the situation. Relief flooded through her as the team gathered together to talk.

* * *

Reid was filling Prentiss in on the previous case they had here; where he and Lila had fun in the pool. He momentarily forgot all about Morgan. In fact he forgot about him altogether. Maybe he was just missing Lila so much that he had subconsciously shifted his emotions onto Morgan. That seemed like a rational explanation…

Hotch was briefing the team on the case for the fifth time: Lila was in danger and needed the FBI's help. Together they had to find and catch the unsub before anyone else got hurt; especially people close to Lila and that meant one floppy haired individual they all loved: Spencer Reid.

It was obvious this unsub wanted Reid – from kidnapping Lila and contacting the FBI – but for what purpose? Did he _want_ Reid in that way? Was he looking for revenge? The police then started to brief the team.

"Has he made anymore contact?" Hotch said starkly, glaring at the detective.

"Yes. A note." From a nearby drawer he pulled out a note:

I WANT HIM. IF I DON'T GET HIM

SHE DIES!

The lettering was enough to make Reid queasy. The capital lettering and jagged handwriting suggested a very angry, violent nature in the unsub, but the use of the demanding orders and short but effective threats shows a dominant personality. The unsub wouldn't be particularly organised, however, considering he made no other demands, such as to go alone.

Then, the detective flipped the note:

MEET ME AT HER HOUSE

AT ELEVEN PM

ALONE

There was the organised side to the unsub. Reid's spine shivered with nerves at the mere notion of meeting the unsub on his own. He needed some time to think.

* * *

Morgan refused to even acknowledge that Reid could go. Part of him loved Reid in a way no one could understand; he was not going to let his Pretty Boy walk into a trap and get hurt or get… killed.

Reid insisted on going, though. He'd made the decision after requesting a few minutes to think from Hotch, returning to the room with a burning desire to protect his first love. He'd always regretted abandoning Lila, hoping she would find someone else, someone better for her than him, but she needed him.

He agreed to meet the delusional unsub, taking all necessary precautions before even leaving the station. His blue FBI vest was strapped to his body; his gun was precariously placed in its holster; his ear piece had been tested at least five times by Garcia, but he was ready now. Hotch had briefed him on what to say and how to avoid antagonising the unsub by sticking to the profile.

"Just remember, he's demanding and organised. Agree with what he says, but keep Lila and yourself protected. We'll be able to keep in contact on the earpiece," Hotch had instructed him. Reid nodded his head to the instructions, but he was still nervous and Morgan could see that.

Morgan just wanted one last talk before Reid could step in the SUV waiting for him.

* * *

"Reid!" Morgan caught him just before he sat in the driver's seat.

Reid looked up at Morgan who was running towards him, kind of like in the movies, the sun radiating off of his skin making him seem like an angel, particularly his bald spot creating some form of halo. The thought made Reid snicker. _No_, he thought, shaking his head, He didn't long for Morgan, he longed for Lila. That was why he was going to save her right now.

"Reid," Morgan hesitated. He needed to tell him, but how? "I know this whole situation with Lila is crazy and confusing as hell, but I need to tell you something. It's the way I feel about you..."

Reid looked up towards Morgan, narrowing his eyes into a picture of confusion. He did not need this from Morgan. Not now.

"Just, here me out, okay. I know you may still love Lila deep inside, but I've seen the way you look at me and how things changed over the years between the two of us. You weren't looking at me like I was the big brother or the best friend anymore, but something more.

"I'll have to admit, that it kind of scared me at first, but then I took a look at you, a good look, and I saw something shine inside the darkness that we work in. I saw innocence and wisdom, and I damn well fell for it.

"I can't lose you now, Pretty Boy, over a girl you haven't seen in years. Please Reid... please..."

Reid gulped, butterflies in his stomach. "Please, what?"

"I-uh...," he trailed into silence, fumbling over his words. "Just don't get yourself killed, for me, please?" Morgan said. "That's all I can really say; I know I can't stop you."

"I'll try," Reid said haphazardly.

"I know you will..." Morgan trailed in the midst of his thoughts. He stared at Reid with warm chocolate eyes that weren't doing so well in hiding the fear and the pain that Morgan was feeling at that moment. Reid couldn't help but get lost in Morgan's irises as Morgan couldn't help but get lost in Reid's, and they stared longingly.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

_Statistically, when people stare into each other's eyes for six seconds without blinking, it indicates a... a..._

Four seconds.

Five seconds.

_Ah! Why can't I remember?_

Six Seconds.

…

"I… I have to go now Morgan." Reid stutters slightly as he looks down at his shoes. Morgan nodded in defeat and walked back towards the station, punching the door. Reid turned his head towards the road, placed his hands on the steering wheel, and pushed his foot on the gas pedal.

He was really doing this.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: This is just a little about what is going through Reid's mind. I felt bad that it's been over a month since I updated so decided to write this. Hopefully next chapter will be up soon and possibly from Unsub's POV. Hope you like this, feel free to R&R.**

* * *

He was outside Lila's house before he knew it; he was so focused on his conversation with Morgan before he left that he forgot what his plan was and now he was at the house. He saw the fence which surrounded the pool, the place he had his first kiss. With Lila. Lila. That's who he should be concentrating on, not Morgan.

_What was the plan again? _ He asked himself. _Morgan would be soo annoyed if I went in without a plan._

_Quit thinking of Morgan. _The other half of his brain scolded him. _You need to focus, Lila, remember Lila._

And he did, he never really forgot her. He remembered the way her blonde hair fell in her face due to her slightly off centre parting. He remembered the way her hand felt in his, especially the way her grip tightened as he was dragged into the pool; the way when they said goodbye she held his shoulder in a reassuring gesture. He looks at the magazine capturing that moment every day, how could he ever forget it? But most of all he remembered the feel of her lips against his own. How their bodies were pressed together in an attempt to stay afloat. How he tried to be a gentleman and push her away in case she regretted the decision later; he knew his heart wouldn't be able to handle that, he already had feelings for her.

And standing before the door Reid knew what he must do. He checked his watch to see how much longer he would undoubtedly have to wait:

11:00:06 – Showtime.


	3. Chapter 3

Unsub POV:

1 week previously:

Waking up to the sunlight streaking through the haphazardly shut blinds, I knew today would be the day; the day when I take the first step towards achieving my revenge. I knew her routine inside and out, an advantage from befriending her. Ever since I lost my job at the museum I found my attention fixated on her, but she never notices me. We go out every other day talking about anything, everything, especially if it has to do with _him._

It always comes back to _him. _

_He _was the reason I lost my job. _He_ was the reason I didn't get the grades in college. _He_ was the reason I had no chance with her. But no more. I would have my revenge, on the both of them. For rejecting me and making me look like a fool, but I know I'm not and soon they will too.

I continued my normal routine with her: going out for coffee at lunch; talking about her acting career, which I secretly hoped would fail, and meeting with her at night with some of her other friends for drinks. Only this time I had a plan.

She never ordered alcoholic drinks, always insisted on being the designated driver. She claimed that when _the event_ took place she was so scared and only had _him_ to trust and rely on. She _used_ to be a party animal, never wanted to put her life on hold; not for anyone, even when she was being stalked by a psychotic murderer for Christ sakes! Now she claims that she never wants to feel vulnerable like that again, so only ever orders water and makes sure everyone else although has a few drinks is always fine by the time they leave.

I pretended to be drunk, throwing in slurs and sways when I needed to but not too much so that she wouldn't notice. Any drink I ordered was tipped in the plant pot nearby, so my senses weren't clouded whilst they believed my lie.

She took me home, worried that I couldn't look after myself. Then, I put the final part of my plan into place.

She led me to the couch, staggering slightly as I increased the amount of my body weight she was holding. She started swaying, undoubtedly from the strain I was putting on her. _Good._ I smirked. They were over halfway to the couch when he saw the painting hanging above it, the painting that lost him his job. The FBI had to question him over it, it wasn't his fault that some random person wanted her to have it but not know from whom, and she liked that kind of stuff anyway he thought he might finally get a chance. But no, _he_ turned up and ruined everything. No doubt she kept the painting since although the memories surrounding it should have been bad it reminded her of _him._ I could feel my blood boiling in me veins; I had to do it now.

With the littlest effort in the world I straightened to my full height, leaving her to fall to the floor from the loss of weight. Catching her unawares I lunged for her and caught hold of her wrist twisting it behind her back. She struggled briefly for a few seconds, tugging her arm trying to break my vice like grip. She used her free arm to elbow me in the gut, momentarily winding me and causing me to lose my hold on her wrist freeing her. She looked shocked at what I had done, using this as a distraction I rammed into her tackling her to the ground. I used my body weight to crush her, until she kneed me in the groin.

She rolled on top of me and punched me in the face. She went for another punch but this time I caught her wrist in my left hand and pulled her down, punching her in the ribs with my right. I overpowered her again and ended up straddling her. She started thrashing on the ground underneath me and moved one of her legs. With a well-aimed kick to the back of my diaphragm I collapsed on top of her again. She pushed me off of her and made to run out the door but I was too fast.

Pulling her by her hair I threw her towards the wall opposite, smashing her head against the doorframe as I did so. She now had a steady stream of blood pouring down her face from the wound I created on her forehead. She started to sway unsteadily and I knew she had a concussion. It would be easy to drag her away now, but where was the fun in that?

Although unnecessary – and would all the more likely make the next job more difficult – I spun her around and using the momentum threw her into the dining table in the middle of the room, knocking over some chairs in the process. Her blood started seeping through her shirt, making stains against the flimsy polyester. She wasn't fully unconscious yet though, murmuring against the table, still stirring slightly, and even though dragging her to the car when she was would take a horrendous amount of energy trying to shift her dead weight, I couldn't help but relish the thought.

Grabbing one of the candle sticks I "lightly" tapped her in the temple, causing her to take that final step into unconsciousness. Picking up her arm I swung her over my shoulder, in a fireman's carry, and started towards my car. I staggered towards it, certain that the fiery blonde had done some damage.

Halfway to the car I started to regret the need I had to make her fully unconscious, opening the trunk was difficult with her on my shoulder and the old Citroen Picasso I was driving unfortunately didn't have an automatic boot. All of her friends laughed at me when I bought the car, it wasn't typically American and had no style for it to ever fit in, but it had the big boot and that was all I needed really. Searching in the dark for the handle I released the boot and ungraciously dumped her in the back of it. I then repositioned her so as not to draw attention in case anyone got too close and saw part of her. Slowly closing the boot I released a breath I didn't realise I had been holding.

Phase one was complete.

All I needed to do now was make sure that there was no trace of ever being at her house, and the signs of a struggle. Maybe throwing her against the table was a bit too much, but being caught up in the moment I couldn't help it. Being round her house so often I knew where she kept the cleaning supplies, and if they did do a DNA check no-one would suspect me; I always hung out with her and occasionally slept round, on the sofa of course she would only ever want _him_ near her bedroom.

It took all of an hour to clean the apartment and most of that was spent fixing the table and candlesticks. Still, not a single trace of the previous struggle was present to which he smiled and left the apartment for the last time.

Walking back to his car he checked on her again to find her still unconscious so made his way to the driver's side of the Picasso and climbed in.

* * *

**AN: Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, getting closer to the encounter, any guesses as to who the unsub might be? Please feel free to review :)**


End file.
